


Delicious Soul

by optimisticrealist72



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Bonding, Drama, Explicit Language, F/M, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mpreg, Multi, Out of Character, Romance, Sexual Content, Slash sex, Spoilers, Threesome, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-04
Updated: 2011-06-04
Packaged: 2018-09-29 19:43:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10142582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/optimisticrealist72/pseuds/optimisticrealist72
Summary: I don't own. ---- The night Harry comes to age, Remus Lupin is jerked awake by a terrible feeling. The mate he thought had died before he came of age, was alive. Seventeen, but alive. Should be happy, right? Except that his mate was dieing. As he races to rescue his unknown mate, the thought doesn’t even pass his mind till it’s too late - Who is his mate?





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from SeparatriX, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [HP Fandom](http://fanlore.org/wiki/HP_Fandom_\(archive\)), which was closed for health and financial reasons. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [HP Fandom collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hpfandom/profile).

Chapter One: Mine

Remus woke with a start, breath harsh as chills traveled like spiders over his spine. His blond hair was mused from tossing and turning through the night, his eyes blood-shot with deep shadows underneath. Sweat dripped down his face, traveling down until it dripped off his chin to fall onto the mangled comforter. The full moon had been a week ago, so his eyes were fading back to a light brown that swirled with amber in the light. Since he hadn’t transformed in a while, he should have been actually getting sleep. But, for an unknown reason, he was restless. His wolf had been antsy, itching to get out no matter how far away the moon was, and he had this foreboding sense of dread, as if something terrible was going to happen.  
A clap of thunder went through the air and Remus’s eyes darted up, taking in his surroundings before landing on the clock. Midnight. What could wake me up at midnight? He knew it wasn’t the storm, he had been having thunderstorms all week. Remus wasn’t exactly a heavy sleeper, but you had to be if you spent seven years of your life sleeping with Sirius. Though the habit had faded, that still wasn’t a reason as to why he would wake up in the middle of the night.  
As if to answer his ponderings, a strange feeling of rightness filled his chest, as if everything in the world was fixed. Remus Lupin was suddenly no longer a werewolf, no longer had to deal with paying for food, no longer had to help fight off a certain Dark Lord. Euphoria filled him, and the world seemed golden. No, everything was right in the universe for that one second, before everything came crashing down.  
Pain ricocheted through his chest and he was out of his bed in moments. Clothes flung as he struggled to get dressed, as some part of his brain, the wolf’s side, noticed his frantic movements for what they were. Mate, mate, mate, mate! Mate’s in pain! Must save Mate! Dressed and with wand in hand, Remus didn’t stall for a coat as he rushed out into the rain.  
Lightning illuminated his lithe frame as a silent ‘pop’ echoed through the night and Remus disappeared from sight.  
His mate was hurt.

OOOOOOOOOOooooooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOOOooooooooooooooooOOOOOO

Harry was lying on his side, curled in a ball as he faced the blinking red numbers on one of Dudley’s old clocks, that happened to be five minutes fast. He resided in the smallest bedroom of Number 4 Privet Drive, resting on a long ago broken cot, stained lightly with his own blood. Rejected toys littered the walls and thunder clapped outside, but Harry took no notice. He was watching the clock, 11:05 it said. Ten minutes till his seventeenth birthday*. Ten minutes till he could grab his trunk and leave this house forever, maybe to live with Sirius or Remus. Though the numbers were blurred, his glasses having been crushed due to Dudley reliving the days of ‘Harry Hunting’, he could tell he had ten minutes left. He sat up slowly and painstakingly, wincing. A wound on his back reopened and his broken rib gave a twinge, but he managed to sit up.  
Vernon hadn’t taken well to being threatened at the end of Harry’s fifth year. Before then, it had mostly been neglect with a few beatings thrown in. He had impossible chore lists and was punished constantly, but only with lack of food. Only if he did something major did he get a real thrashing. Now, though? The chores had grown harder and more ridiculous, often tedious. Any food at all became scarce. While they let him keep his school things with promise he would not use them, he was beaten daily. From dropping a dish, burning food, or even for something as random as “contaminating the morning paper with his freakishness.” This had been going on for two summers now. Every year when he returned to school, he was careful to apply glamours on the train and show no pain. Every once and a while he’d catch a concerned glance from his teachers when he limped or skipped a meal. Harry’s stomach seemed to shrink every year, being unable to hold much food without throwing up. He was the shortest kid in his year, and probably the shortest in the sixth and fifth years too, due to living in a cramped cupboard for the first eleven years of his life.  
Harry had to get out before tomorrow, though. His uncle had found out the one thing that could have possibly made him more of a freak then he already was. He had discovered Harry was gay. And if there was one thing Vernon hated more the motorcycles or abnormal people, it was homosexuals. Harry had no doubt in his mind that he would die tomorrow if he did not escape.   
Eight minutes. Harry slowly stands, biting his lip to hold back a gasp of pain. Hobbling over to his trunk, he pulled it back over to the broken cot, taking a seat with a sigh of relief, having not noticed the sound of his trunk scraping across the floor had happened during a calm spot in the storm, making it louder then he would have wished. Glancing around the room to make sure everything was packed, Harry froze like a deer in the headlights when he heard his uncle’s snores falter for a moment.   
Six minutes. He heard a muffled grunt, a bed creak under enormous weight. His uncle grumbled, heavy footsteps thudding against the ground as he made his way to his door. Harry’s breath caught in his throat. Emerald eyes darted to the window, which had been barred again last summer. Glancing towards the door, he tried to calculate how much time he had to make a break for it. Not much, judging by the thundering footsteps that were sounding closer and closer every passing seconds. Despite being disrupted from his slumber, his uncle was obviously making a bee-line towards his room, as if to make sure Harry couldn’t escape. Harry was out of time. He pushed the trunk hastily away with his feet, wincing as it scraped along the floorboards. It was soon at the end of his bed, and he scampered backwards, gasping for breath at the pain in his ribs. Curling into himself at the top corner of his bed, Harry couldn’t help but think that this feeling, this absolute terror for his life, and not someone else’s, was the feeling one must get before they died, before their life was snatched into Death’s cold grasp.  
Five minutes. Locks slid open outside his door and he squeezed his eyes shut, waiting and listening. The door creaked open slowly, which he was sure his uncle did purposely, to add dramatic effect. He didn’t speak yet - probably saving his voice for the actual beating. Harry’s eyes opened just as lightning flashed across the room, outlining his uncle’s obese form. In that glimpse of the man, Harry saw the cruel, sadistic smirk, beady eyes filled with loathing, and a metal bat held at the ready in his hand. Eyes closed again, he heard the air whistle past the bat as it struck his shoulder, along with the shattering crack of his bone. He didn’t make a sound.  
“Well, freak?” Another hit, this time along the back. “No one to help you this time, none of your freaky friends to save you now?” Vernon grunted out, hit after hit, watching with cruel satisfaction as blood stained Harry’s shirt. The boy in question was biting his lip to keep from crying out, not letting himself even whimper.  
“They don’t care, either, you freak! You worthless waste of space!” Another crack went through the room, the pain forcing Harry to open his eyes “You fucking faggot! We give you a home, shelter, we’ve clothed your back for years and even found the kindness in our hearts to feed you, the worthless FREAK that was dumped on our doorstep because no one else cared enough to take you! You parents just had to go and get themselves blown up! I bet they hated you too! Who would want a worthless piece of shit like yourself?” He threw in a hit, sometimes even a kick for effect, as if to get the message to sink in. Harry felt anger swell up inside him, but not at the man who was beating him. No - at himself. I am a freak, a waste of space. Vernon’s right, no one could like me, no one could care. His thoughts continued, colored with self-loathing, so distracted he actually let a whimper of pain out. That caused Vernon to hit harder, panting with effort. “SHUT UP, BOY!” He dropped the bat, causing it to clatter to the floor, and yanked Harry’s head up by his hair, causing him to gasp in pain as his injuries made themselves known. Multiple broken bones, he could tell already. There was no way he could survive this. A sadistic smile crossed his uncle’s face.  
“I’ll show you how we deal with freaks around here.” He had obviously prepared this before entering Harry’s room, for he pulled five strands of rope from his pocket. Harry knew what they were for, he had done this before. His uncle liked to make sure all of him was hurt, and usually made sure Harry was near naked for this special punishment as well. So it was no surprise as he was yanked harshly, each wrist and ankle being tied before one went up to go in his mouth, gagging him. He bit the sweaty rope in pain, his injuries being jostled this way and that. Then, his uncle left. Glancing up when no immediate pain came, he saw his uncle enter his room again, this time with a metal flashlight. Harry stared at it, confused, as his uncle ripped all his clothes from his body.  
“You’re going to learn your lesson freak, and then I won’t ever have to worry about you darkening this household again.” Emerald eyes widened with realization as he felt meaty hands on his ass. He started to struggle, eyes wide with panic as he tried to speak. Cold metal touched his entrance and he screamed around the rope.  
“Happy birthday, freak!” Cold metal tore his insides as it brutally entered him, sending unimaginable pain through his body, bloody and bruised. The last thing he saw before he passed out was his clock striking 12:05.

OOOOOOOOOOOOoooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOoooooooooooooOOOOOOOOOO

Remus was in such a hurry, he didn’t find anything unusual when he apparated to Number 4 Privet Drive, didn’t make the connection in his frantic brain. The smell of blood was emanating from the fairly normal house, and Remus growled under his breath. Striding to the door, he drew his wand with shaky hands, quivering in anger. Opening the door, he carefully followed the smell of blood, up the stairs and to the first door on the right, near the middle of the hallway. Multiple locks adorned the door, along with a cat flap that had Remus growling again, quietly so not to alert the enemy, the person who dare hurt his mate. The smell of blood reeked here, and Remus didn’t bother with alohomora. No, he grabbed the handle and ripped the door off the hinges, angered beyond belief at the sight before him. A fat muggle, with a bloody bat laying next to him, was pounding a metal thing in and out of his precious mate! The same mate that was bound to a broken cot, completely unconscious. He growled loudly, startling the whale of man, who jumped back from his mate as if he had been burned, turning to look for the source of the sound.  
“WHO THE RUDDY HELL-”   
“Stupefy!” Remus ground out, watching with a sick satisfaction as the man fell in the middle of his rant. Stepping around the man, he rushed to his mate’s side, not taking in the boy’s features, just easing the flashlight’s handle out of his mate’s abused hole. Remus choked on anguish and fury, wanting to turn around and torture the man for all he was worth, but he needed to tend to his mate first. He could come back later to deal with the man responsible for all his mate’s pain - right now, his mate’s life was slowly slipping away.   
His mate was lying on his stomach, so he couldn’t have seen his face if he wanted to - he didn’t care who is was, as long as he was safe. Untying the rope that bound and gagged him, Remus wrapped him in a slightly bloody, raggedy threadbare blanket. Lifting him gently in his arms, he winced as his mate let out a soft moan of pain in his sleep. Glancing down to get a glimpse of his precious mate’s face, Remus froze. From unruly black hair, matted with blood, to the lightning shaped scar that adorned his forehead, Remus instantly recognized his mate, his godson, the man he already had an unconditional love for, after only knowing they were mates for approximately six minutes. But it didn’t matter right now. Right now, all that mattered was making him safe. Amber eyes glancing at the packed trunk, he grabbed it with one hand while carrying his surprisingly light mate in the other arm. For once glad for the special port-key Albus had insisted on him having, he spoke the password before disappearing.  
“Mine.”


End file.
